


The Airwaves Between Us (and everything else)

by ScatteredStories



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScatteredStories/pseuds/ScatteredStories
Summary: Clarke is on the run from Ontari to save the chip and she finds her way back to the dropship where Raven's radio has sat unused for months. What happens when someone, somewhere far away, makes contact?





	

Clarke’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as she ran through the dense forest, lungs complaining for air, muscles aching; yet adrenaline propelled each step forward. She was desperate to create distance between herself and the chaos. Desperate to escape. The anguish of the people from the now burning village whispered in wind behind her; but Ontari’s following warcry shattered the peace of the forest as it resonated through the trees. The sound was nothing like Lex-- like the previous Commander’s. Ontari sounded more sinister, more like she was killing to prove something to herself rather than honor the Commanders before her, unlike she had.

‘God, Clarke. You’re a mess. You can’t even say her name.’

Despite the dire situation, Clarke couldn’t help but allow herself that thought. Couldn’t help but think of Lex-- of Lexa and how different she was from this faux-Heda. It felt foolish of her to even expect Ontari to be anywhere near the kind of person Lexa was. Even without knowing the finer details of the Grounders' history, she knew no other Heda would be like her. Lexa was irreplaceable. Lincoln knew it, often explaining how the Grounders called her special. Titus had treasured her so much, dedicating his life and his death, as Clarke learned, to Lexa. She was different; revolutionary. A real leader.

But she was gone now and she wasn’t coming back.

‘The dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry.’ That soft, but undoubtedly authoritative voice echoed in the recesses of her mind. Even now the phrase had the same effect as the day it was uttered, and Clarke internally kicks herself. It’s a lesson that she now held close to her heart especially in the past several days; since she watched that red smoke billowing out from the top of Polis. It was a lesson that left a bitter taste on her tongue; even after she mentally chanted the words for the umpteenth time. She was compelled to repeatedly drill the phrase into her head, for she continued to disbelieve the words, despite everything that had happened.

‘Lexa is gone. Lexa is dead.’

Clarke’s chest constricts, the way it always did, and would probably always do, whenever her thoughts drift to the Commander; her Commander. It felt l ike someone had taken a sword and pierced straight through the useless organ that was her heart; slowing her steps until she’s forced to a stop behind a fallen tree.

“Goddamn it, Clarke.” She berates herself, swiping angrily at the tears that were now staining her cheeks, the glistening trails collecting blood and dirt as they carved paths down along her face. It was the length of a breath before the weight became too much and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I can’t do this…” came her strangled voice, tired and tight from days of screaming. “I can’t beat them Lexa.”

She’s unsure when she had become reckless enough to have a breakdown in the middle of an unfamiliar forest while Ontari’s men were hunting her down; but she does. Despite every instinct in her body telling her to run or to get to safety, she remains firmly rooted to the soft earth beneath her worn boots. Once the first of the tears had escaped, it became like a dam failing, and Clarke could do little to stop the onslaught that followed. Allowing herself to be embraced by the surrounding blanket of ferns, she crumpled at the unbearable and ascending pain radiating from her broken heart; sobs catching in her throat and threatening to choke her. She presses her palms against her eyelids in a feeble attempt to push away the tears; but it’s futile to even try. Each one brushed away is immediately replaced by another; the tears forming a constant stream.

Threading her trembling digits into pale hair, gripping it tightly in a physical manifestation of her desperate attempt to remain afloat, fighting not sink beneath the weight that was pressing down on her shoulders. The weight she had so willingly taken upon her shoulders to keep the delinquents safe. A responsibility that had quickly morphed from simply getting supplies from Mount Weather to surviving the wrath of the grounders. A responsibility that had fixed her on a path that ensured her meeting with Lexa, the one person who understood her struggle and helped her. 

Lexa was the first and only person who challenged her; made her want to be a better and stronger leader. The woman was perceptive and intuitive despite her young age, never asking for an apology, never demanding; seemingly knowing Clarke better than she knew herself. It was odd in a way, Lexa had, in a way, forced her to kill Finn for this peace and yet she had simultaneously helped Clarke find peace with what she had done. She was the same person that allowed Clarke to see the gentleness of a grounder that was rarely ever shown in public since it would be considered ‘showing weakness’.

Even after the betrayal at the Mountain, Lexa had protected her from Azgeda, had put her own life at risk from both Queen Nia and Clarke herself. Lexa had absorbed every ounce of Clarke’s rage and returned it with understanding and an unspoken affection without asking so much as an apology from the blonde.

Lexa never wavered.

Lexa never doubted Clarke.

She protected Clarke and taught her the traditions of the Grounders. Every passing day that Clarke had spent in Polis; every secret smile that she shared with Lexa; every late night conversation under the guise of checking the wounded hand; every moment she shared with the young woman, with Lexa; had lifted that weight from her shoulders. Somehow, being able to share her burdens with Lexa made it bearable to face what she had done to survive; made it easier to sleep at night.

Because Lexa understood.

But at the same time, it was the same weight that had finally broken Clarke; crashing down with a vengeance as she watched the life fade from Lexa’s eyes; the Commander's body withering as her soul moved on. She was forced to wear the weight upon her ragged and tired shoulders as soon as Ontari killed the Natblidas, as soon as she had learned what had been happening in Arkadia. Ontari wasn’t the only enemy anymore; ALIE and everyone she had infected were now looking for the chip that was stored safely in a metal case over her heart.

Lexa’s chip.

Instinctively, her hand moves from her hair to the small case under her coat, rubbing the corners through the coat with her fingertips with the same adoration as she had on the inked skin of Lexa’s arm that day. ‘I’ve got you. I promise.’ she thought as she wiped at the tears again. Clarke fishes the metal box from under her coat and armor, cradling it between dirtied fingers before pushing the lid open so she could see the small chip inside.

She didn’t take it out though, no, Clarke would never risk that. Not when Ontari was only a few miles away and ALIE was lurking through every infected person; hunting for it. Clarke simply stared at it and tried to imagine what would happen if she had been able to put it into Luna’s head. Would she have gotten Lexa’s memories? Would she know every intimate moment she shared with the Commander? Every word they shared? Every touch?

No. Those moments belonged to them alone. Just her and Lexa. She didn’t want anyone else to know how Lexa enthusiastically stayed up through ungodly hours; seated on the windowsill in Clarke’s room, telling her about the Heda’s conclave, or how the brave Commander had once been afraid of the winged spiders. Clarke didn’t want anyone else to know how they touched each other; shifting like magnets, fitting together seamlessly. No one could be privy to how Lexa flawlessly understood what Clarke wanted to say from a simple nod, or the way Clarke had desperately grasped Lexa’s hand as they made love.

The concept made Clarke’s skin bristle, and she shakes her head before slipping the box back into her coat. There was no need to agonise about that now, Luna was dead and Ontari was truly the last person who would survive being implanted with the chip. It was selfish but Clarke didn’t care, the whole political structure of the Grounders could crumble under the Azgeda’s fake rule but she would never give up the chip.

It was her responsibility to protect it. Her turn to protect Lexa.

There’s suddenly the sound of muted footsteps and they were close; tearing her away from her thoughts. The crunching of leaves beneath heavy boots alerted Clarke to the source of the sound but she was unable to discern anything amidst the blurred greens; her sight impaired by her tears. In a swift and silent movement, she pulled out the dagger from her hip and shifted her stance; not wishing to use her pistol unless the situation demanded it. Her fingers close around the familiar wooden handle; the weapon expertly designed so it could be gripped by a woman’s hands. It was Lexa’s dagger after all. 

As the sound of the footsteps drew closer, Clarke dared to peek around the tree and gasped before jumping to her feet, “Octavia!” she hissed; relief flooding through her system. When Ontari and her men had attacked, they had been the only people in the village because they couldn’t risk Bellamy being recognized by any of the grounders and Monty was watching over Raven as she healed from the injuries she sustained while being under ALIE’s control.  
“Clarke! Thank God! I thought you were dead.” the younger Blake sighed before crouching beside her and hugging her tight. “Ontari killed everyone.”  
“I know.” Clarke answers tightly, clenching her jaw to resist images of the burning village from plaguing her mind. She couldn’t dwell on that now, they had to get to somewhere safe; more importantly they had to keep the chip safe. “We need to go. We can’t go back to Arkadia, Ontari might track us there and if she does, we’re all dead.”  
Octavia only nods, undoubtedly having learned the use of non-verbal communication from Lincoln, before leading her through the jungle; her steps quieter compared to Clarke’s clumsy stride.

As they passed through the forest, Clarke compartmentalized everything she had felt only a few moments earlier, focusing on one thing at a time. Get to safety. Secure the chip. Figure out a new plan to beat ALIE. Survive. Save everyone. Only then could she properly grieve. Any time before that and it threatened to tear her apart at the seams.

Octavia was moving through the forest confidently and despite the unfamiliar territory, she was able to lead them towards the border into Trikru land. The trek took hours even with Octavia’s refusal to rest, and by the time the two women arrived at their destination it was well into the night. As they slip into the metal shell of the dropship, Clarke swore that she could see the beginning of the sunrise through the trees. “You should be safe here until the sun is up.” Octavia muses as she stops right by the large door.  
“Me? Where are you going?” Clarke turns tiredly to the brunette, in time to see her gaze drift up the ladder that lead to the upper section of the ship, her defined jaw clenching tightly; that’s when Clarke realizes the answer to her question. This was the place where Lincoln was tortured, the place where Lincoln had showed her the gentle soul that housed such an intimidating form, where he had gone against everything he knew to admit which vial was the antidote in order to save Octavia from the poison. It caused a pain to bloom in the blonde’s chest but she clears her throat and simply accepts Octavia’s “Outside” without any more stupid questions.

For a solid minute, Clarke was tempted to follow Octavia out of the stifling confines of the drop ship, but then there’s a sound like a low hiss. It takes her attention away from the door and towards the middle of the small area where Raven’s radio sat unused, accumulating dust. Blue eyes dart over each component as if it was the first time she had ever seen it, approaching it as she imagined a Grounder would. Cautious but undeniably curious with the crackling device.

She supposed that Raven was the best Zero-G Mechanic for a reason, how else could she have created a radio from scrap that still worked without electricity for over 5 months?

Her fingers slide along the frame of the worn headset, tracing the metal lightly as her eyes take in each part of the device. From the different cables and wires, the dark screen that once showed the delinquents images of their family, even the complicated looking dial that Raven used to sync to the Ark’s signal was still there. Everything was just like it was the last time Clarke had been here, like it was frozen in time and remained untouched even after everything that had happened since then. It crackles to life once again, stopping for several seconds before hissing back to life, like someone was trying to get through the blanket of white noise. 

“Right.” Clarke shakes her head with a humorless chuckle before dropping the headset back unto the table. There was no one in Arkadia and Mount Weather was nothing but a pile of rubble at the bottom of a crater, there would be no one on the other end of the line. Sighing, Clarke resigns herself to sitting on the dirty mattress at the other end of the room with her back against the cool metal wall. The exhaustion settles in her bones and her head settles against the wall but her gaze remains on the floor, on a particular spot that was stained with blood.

Raven’s blood, she realizes a little too late before she could turn away. Octavia was smart to stay outside, this place just held too many awful memories, but Clarke’s ass had already merged with the soft mattress and she had little energy to force herself up and out. The bed was more comfortable than the ground she had been sleeping on for the past weeks but nothing compared to the comfort and warmth of her bed in Polis, or of Lexa’s bed. The thought would have caused more pain if Clarke wasn’t so exhausted but even with her body on the verge of passing out, she still felt the pang of loss in her heart. Instead of allowing herself to react or to feel, Clarke closes her eyes and breathes out a slow long breath to force her body to relax. After several breaths, Clarke’s shoulders sag and she feels the arms of sleep pull her into a deep rest.

‘You have to go back, they’re your people. That why I--’ 

She could see her again, could hear the tightness in her voice and recognize the acceptance in her forest green eyes. Lexa understood why Clarke had to leave, just like Clarke understood why Lexa had left Skaikru at Mount Weather; their responsibility to their people outweighed any personal feelings, no matter how strong they were.

Because in this world, love wasn’t enough. Love was impractical and dangerous, and it could be used against you as effectively as a gun or a blade.

‘She might even be angry enough to declare war!’

This time it was Titus that plagued her mind, his voice deep and desperate and angry because he knows that Lexa’s vision and Clarke’s presence is putting the Heda’s command under scrutiny, that people are rising up against Lexa to avenge their dead. 

The irony isn’t lost on Clarke.

She knows what’s coming next, her memory and her nightmares were always the same. She knows that there would be three times when that gun in his hands would go off. Three times that it could have hit Clarke and yet the first two lands on nothing and then the third...

The third that buries itself into the soft space between Lexa’s lungs, drowning the woman in her own blood. Drowning her in front of Clarke and leaving her with nothing to do but to watch the life drain out the eyes of the woman she loved.

‘Don’t be afraid…’

Hearing her those words again, coated in Lexa’s pained voice, felt like being drenched in cold water and Clarke takes in a sharp breath as her torso shoots up into a sitting position, her eyes flying open; bloodshot and tired and worn, looking for danger that was more than likely not even there. She sighs deeply before running a hand through her hair. No. The danger was in her head and in her chest, eating away at what is left of her after so much loss. The danger was the darkness creeping into her veins, tainting the blood and flesh from a vibrant red and pink to consuming blackness; and Clarke was sure her insides, her very soul, was as dark as Lexa’s blood.

‘A warrior does not mourn the dead until the war is over.’ Those were Octavia’s words, words of a Grounder. Clarke could not mourn, could not allow herself to be consumed by the darkness until the war was over, until all her people were safe.

“Your heart… No sign.. Weakness...”

Suddenly, the air felt thick around Clarke and every muscle in her body tightens in reaction the voice that had drifted from Raven’s radio. Blue eyes dart to the dusty wire cover of the radio’s speakers as bile rose up from her stomach, had she been dreaming?

“Not… Everyone… Not you…”

The words push through the static of the radio and Clarke’s heart clenches painfully in her chest. How unfair was this? Was Lexa haunting her like Finn had? If she was, there was nothing Clarke could do to send her away; this time she couldn’t push away the pain and grief that squeezed at her heart, she couldn’t hold the pieces of her heart together.

“Clarke.”

Hearing her name spoken by Lexa’s haunting voice finally snaps her in two. When a sudden surge of raging and unrestrained energy floods through her veins, Clarke blindly reaches for and close around the closest solid thing to her, the box that held Lexa’s chip, before hurling it towards the radio. The metal box slams into the screen, knocking it to the side and cracking the middle of dark glass, “Stop! Stop! Get out of my head! Get out!” Clarke cried out, the knot of emotions she’d held back for weeks finally unraveling in her chest, “You’re dead! You’re--” she doesn’t get to finish, doesn’t get to push the words from her mouth before the loss once again slams into her chest. Her hands wrap around her body, physically holding herself together because her body couldn’t hold in all the emotions anymore.

Clarke suddenly feels the absence of the cool metal against her chest and realization dawn on her on what exactly she had chucked across the room. With unsteady legs and her heart hammering against her chest, she makes her way to the radio and quickly spots the rusted case laying open atop a pile of cables, “No, no, no, no. Where is it?” she hissed as she frantically dug through the colored cables in search of the chip. “No, please, please, please.” Clarke nearly cried.

Something sparks off the side, pulling the blonde’s attention to the small box that served as the radio’s satellite. The chip lay flat against the blinking lights and Clarke carefully plucked it from where it lay, watching the tendrils continue to reach for the tech even as she pulled it away. If the chip had been damaged, it could mean that the Grounders would never have another Heda, it could mean that Clarke would have truly killed Lexa. It wouldn’t be Titus with the a gun or Semet with a knife, it wouldn’t have been Roan with his spear and sword; had Clarke broken this chip, she’d would have been the one to erase Lexa from the world.

The thought shakes her to the core.

Gently, she places the chip in the palm of her hand and watches as the tendrils retreat back into the shell that housed the AI. Once it was deactivated, Clarke was quick to place it back in the rust colored metal case but keeping it open so that she could still see the chip.

She sits on the lone chair in front of the radio, her head cradled in her hands as she look down between her elbows, tears flowing freely from her eyes as she stared at the last remaining piece of Lexa, the light streaming from outside adding an ethereal glow to her ocean colored hues. “I miss you… I miss you so much.” Clarke sobs, her tears splashing onto the metal table. There’s a deep craving for Lexa’s presence that radiates from her heart, a craving for the comfort that the Commander provided, for the attentive ear, and the stories or advice exchanged in the silence of Polis at night. She craved to see Lexa’s beautiful green eyes that held wisdom beyond her age, she burned to hear her voice, and to feel those strong hands on her shoulder, comforting her, encouraging her.

Blue eyes lock on the chip and the words drip from her lips without permission, her heart forcing her brain to believe that she was actually looking at Lexa, that Lexa would hear whatever she says now. “I hate you… It’s my fault that you’re gone and I hate you because I can’t stop loving you. I hate you! I hate you! I…” She pauses, taking a breath and releasing it in a ragged sigh, “... don’t hate you. I don’t…” 

Air passes unevenly through her shaking lips and Clarke swipes angrily at the tears on her cheeks, “I feel so alone. I’m with Octavia and Raven and Bellamy and Jasper, and all I can see when they look at me is pity and anger. I’m surrounded by people and I feel alone because you’re not here anymore.” She lets her head hang for a moment to control the pain crawling up her throat, sucking in a sob with a shake of her head. Her fingers tingle with the memory of closing Lexa’s sightless eyes and she clenches her fist to rid herself of the feeling, her jaw clenching as words slipped between her teeth, “it’s not fair… We were just-- we could’ve--” Clarke lets the words die in her throat for a moment, shaking away the images that had formed happily in her head when she and Lexa had laid together in bed; images of a future that they could have had. “I don’t know how to win, I don’t know how we’ll survive this. I’m not you, I don’t have a plan. I’m not--” She stops, sobbing as her body is overcome with grief.

It was too much and she wasn’t even sure what she should do first, what she should feel first. Clarke had never properly grieved the Commander since Titus cut her open to retrieve the chip from her not; unlike Wells or Charlotte, or Finn or the rest of the 100 that didn’t make it to Arkadia, or what she did to the Mountain, those deaths she was able to mourn during her time in the jungle, those deaths she was able to be come to terms with. Lexa’s death was different though, it felt different. They had just began to let themselves feel again, to hope despite the situation they found themselves in, to allow themselves to love and be loved; then it was ripped away by one stray bullet. It felt like a part of her had died right along with the woman and after that, it had been a race to get the chip away from Ontari, then ALIE, then Luna; and now the only other Natblida was dead, the only one who could take the chip and beat ALIE was beheaded by Ontari.

Clarke would never allow Ontari to take the fire, to taint Lexa, but she also couldn’t leave the Grounders without a real Heda. Their history, from beginning to end, was only available to two people, Titus and Lexa; with both of them dead, their past could be forgotten or tainted. The title tainted because Ontari would rather pretend to be Heda than accept that she wasn’t worthy to be one. 

“I’m stuck.” She breathes, her voice carrying softly along the hollow shell of the dropship, “Everyone is counting on me and I just… I don’t know what to do. Whatever I try just makes everything worse and I’m just so tired… I’m so tired and I wish you were here.” Clarke coughed out another sob before taking the case between her hands and closing her eyes, placing a kiss on the cold metal.

“I’m sorry.” She sobs, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry I wasted so much time trying to be angry with you. I tried… I tried to hate you. I told myself that you used me, that you manipulated me to save your people, that kissing me was all part of your grand scheme… I hated you while I was away from you and when I saw you… When I saw you it all came crashing down on me and it shook me. It shook me because I couldn’t hate you. I tried so hard but you broke me down, you--” Clarke takes in a sharp breath, “-- and now you’re-- and I can’t… I can’t… Not without you...” Every wall that Clarke had built, built and worn down from watching her father die to the more recently built ones when she watched ALIE take over the mind’s of nearly everyone she cared about, every wall came down and left Clarke exposed to what she had refused to feel since Lexa’s death. 

Loss.

Grief that felt like it was crushing down on her lungs.

It hurt. It hurt so much to have that with Lexa; to have restitution, peace, love… only to have it taken away by a scared-careless man with a weapon he didn’t know how to use. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she and Lexa had lost what they were only beginning to have. It wasn’t fair that fate, destiny, or whatever the hell it was had put them together, have them fall in love and torn apart only to reunite over and over and over again, only to end like this.

Anger and resentment, as well as a deeply rooted exhaustion pulls the words from her and through her clenched teeth and flowing tears. “It’s not fair. We deserved it… We deserved to be happy and I don’t know if I can be… Not without you… Not after… not after.” Clarke sobs again, the sound similar to the broken wavering mess that was ripped from her throat when she realized, all those weeks ago, that Lexa had died in her arms.

The radio, the damn thing that had crumbled the walls that Clarke had haphazardly built around her heart, falls quiet as if someone was about to speak and the blonde quiets her sobs as her cerulean blue eyes dart between the speakers and the cracked screen. Every second that the radio falls silent before returning to white noise makes a bitter bile crawl up Clarke’s throat before it’s expelled in a ragged sob; she couldn’t keep doing this, she couldn’t keep holding on to hopes that she could at least give Lexa’s flame to someone worthy only to be disappointed again and again and again.

She couldn’t keep holding on to Lexa.

It hurt too much.

It makes her want to take one of ALIE’s goddamn pills.

Clenching her jaw to quiet her sobs, Clarke pushes herself from the table and grabs the closest-heaviest thing she could find, a disconnected pipe from one of the dropships walls. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t. I can’t keep wishing for you to come back.” she shook her head before dragging the heavy pipe to where the radio sat. “I can’t keep hearing your voice, I can’t keep dreaming about you.”

The white noise disappears as Clarke raised the pipe above her head, ready to slam it into the machine to silence it forever, when a voice drifts from the speakers. A voice that makes her entire body freeze and weaken at the same time, “I’m here.”

She doesn’t move as she gauges whether she had just had another hallucination, trying to figure out if she has ever heard Lexa say those words.

The white noise once again quiets and this time Clarke is paying attention, this time she was listening intently;

“Are you still there?”  
Silence.  
“Hello?”

It was her.

It was Lexa.

Several things happened all at once; the pipe slipped from her hands and crashed noisily on the ground, followed by Octavia running into the dropship and pulling the lever that raised the blast doors with only one warning, “ALIE is here.”


End file.
